


Loving the Alien

by ivanna



Category: Saving Grace B Jones, Taken (TV 2002)
Genre: Crossover, First Time, M/M, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 21:07:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1564088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivanna/pseuds/ivanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if John came to Earth in a different time and place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loving the Alien

**Author's Note:**

> Taken / Saving Grace B. Jones crossover  
> Many thanks to Tarlan for beta reading.

_Then one day he got into his truck and just drove away. No one has ever seen him again  
\- Carrie,” Saving Grace B. Jones” _

Missouri, 1954

The shack was hidden in the dense forest in the north of Missouri. No other human habitation was around, and only a forest path connected the shack with a town a few miles away. It was a perfect shelter for Landy. He had lived here for three years, far away from people and his former life, and the wild animals were his only companions. He felt a connection with them; he was one of them. He was a stranger to his own kind. From time to time he visited the town to refill his supplies but he never stayed long among people. The townsfolk avoided him too, for the sullen lean blond with gleaming green eyes frightened them.

-//-//-//-

Landy was sitting in the old chair listening to the storm outside. The shack trembled in the gusting wind and rain poured down on its roof, but he wasn’t afraid of the fury of nature, not since the flood that had destroyed his life. Everything he had and what he had lived for was gone, and nature had nothing left to take from him anymore. Moreover, he would be happy if the storm would take him away and reunite him with his little girl and Grace. 

A resounding clap of thunder interrupted his thoughts and brought him back to reality. He felt moisture on his cheeks and wiped it away with his hand. Rummaging on the table beside the chair, he found a pack of cigarettes and an old magazine. He lit one cigarette, took a deep puff and tried to read, but an annoying sound from outside distracted him constantly. Finally, he threw the magazine aside, stubbed out the cigarette in an ashtray and got up. Holding a lit lantern in his hand, he went outside. After looking around he realized that the source of the sound was the slamming door of a ramshackle barn. He headed there paying no attention to the pelting rain. Once at the barn, he held out his hand, going to secure the door, but some gut feeling stopped him. Something was wrong here, but he couldn’t name what exactly. He entered the barn holding the lantern before him. The dim light lit a pile of trash. Everything looked normal; Landy shrugged and turned around to leave. Suddenly his eyes caught something in the corner of the barn – a shadow that shouldn’t be there. He looked there and made out the figure of a man sitting on the floor. Landy stepped closer and stretched out his hand holding the lantern to bring more light onto a man. He was sure he had never seen him before. The stranger was dressed in wet and dirty clothes, and he was curled on the floor pulling his knees up to his chest. He looked miserable and he was definitely hurt. He panted and kept his right hand pressed tightly to his ribs on the left side, the shirt was torn there, but Landy saw no blood. The wide open eyes followed Landy, and that look unnerved him. He was ready to ask the stranger who he was and what he was doing here, when the lips of the stranger moved and a hoarse whisper escaped them, “Please, help me.”

Landy crouched beside the stranger and looked closely at him. The stranger was young and skinny, his face was pale beneath the dirt covering it. He really needed help. The stranger’s eyelids lowered, closing his eyes for a moment as if confirming Landy’s thought. Landy encircled his shoulders and helped him to get to his feet. The stranger moaned and pressed his hand harder to his ribs. Landy wasn’t sure if he was able to walk by himself, so he put the stranger’s left arm on his shoulders, taking his weight on himself. The stranger was tall, only a bit shorter than Landy, but turned to be surprisingly light, even for his thinness. He was thin but muscular, Landy noticed when he circled the stranger’s waist, helping him to move. His fingers felt steel muscles beneath wet fabric, and at the same time the stranger weighed as much as if he was malnourished. 

They moved to the door, the stranger’s first steps were tentative, but then his walk became more confident. Landy led him out of the barn and to the shack. The storm continued to rage around them, and Landy hurried to bring the stranger to safety as fast as possible. Once inside, he headed to the only bedroom in the shack and seated the stranger on his unmade bed. The stranger looked completely exhausted, and Landy murmured, “You really should see a doctor.” 

The stranger’s hand flew up and squeezed his forearm with a steel grip, leaving the fingerprints on Landy’s skin. Landy looked down on his fingers, more puzzled than frightened. The stranger’s fingers looked too slim, even fragile for having such strength. The stranger followed his gaze and quickly took his hand off.

“I’ll be fine,” he whispered.

Landy doubted it but didn’t argue. With the storm raging he couldn’t ride to town anyway. He decided to wait until the morning and then, if the stranger wasn't much better, then he would bring the doctor here. 

“Let me help you with your clothes,” he offered.

The stranger looked at him with confusion in his eyes. After a pause, he nodded hesitantly. Landy unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the wet fabric off his shoulders and arms, then took off his pants and shoes. The stranger did little to help him, only half-raised on the bed when Landy ordered him to do it. Once he was undressed, Landy laid him down on pillows. A white tank top had covered the stranger’s torso, and Landy carefully tugged it up so he could examine the injury. The stranger didn’t stop him from doing so, he just stared at him with his piercing gaze. That look, at first unnerving, now became painful as Landy felt a headache rising from the constant feeling of the stranger’s eyes on him. He bent down and examined the stranger’s chest. The skin from the left side was marred with an ugly bruise and swelling.

“Reckon the rib or two are broken. Better do the bandage up tight.”

“Don’t. I’ll be fine. Just need to rest a bit.”

Landy shrugged and didn’t argue. He straightened the tank top and covered the stranger with a blanket. 

“I'll be in the next room, call if you need anything.”

The stranger nodded. Landy turned to leave and made a few steps toward the door, when a hoarse voice stopped him.

“Thank you.”

Landy turned over and looked at the stranger.

“Thank you for bringing me in.”

“Get well.”

Landy left the bedroom and closed the door. 

His headache became unbearable. He went to a table in the living room, poured a shot of whiskey and downed it in one swallow. 

-//-//-//-

The sunlight pouring into an uncurtained window awakened Landy. He cracked open his eyes and moaned. His head was ready to explode, and the empty bottle of whiskey standing on the table seemed to be the answer why. With great difficulty he got up off the sagging couch where he had spent the night and trudged to the bathroom. There he was going to splash cold water onto his face, but suddenly he caught his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall and he stilled, staring at himself. Apparently during the night his nose had started bleeding, and now the crust of dried blood covered the lower part of his face. “What the hell,” he mumbled running his hand over his face. His condition didn’t feel like the ordinary hangover and he briefly wondered if the cheap whiskey was poisoned with some drug, giving it more strength. 

After finishing his business in the bathroom, he went to check on his unexpected guest. It was quiet in the bedroom, but he entered inside nevertheless. The stranger was sleeping, and Landy had opportunity to look him over in bright sunlight. 

His guess from the previous night was right – the stranger was young, apparently he was in mid twenties. His face was pretty, even handsome, but at the same time it looked slightly abnormal. Landy couldn’t name what was wrong with it; it was just an odd feeling. The stranger’s thick brown hair was neatly trimmed exposing his ears, and the slightly peaked shape was abnormal, too. Landy’s eyes slid down the supine body. The long column of a neck, the broad shoulders, the muscular arms. The skin was tanned, and the shoulders were covered with freckles. 

The stranger stirred and opened his eyes. They were an intense blue and too huge for the skinny face. The stranger looked at him, and Landy said, “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

The stranger pondered the answer. “Fine,” he said finally. 

“The storm is over, I can head into town and bring the doctor.”

“No. I’m fine.”

He really did look better, and his face wasn’t deathly pale anymore.

“My name is Landy Bretthorse.”

The stranger paused before naming himself, “John.”

Landy didn’t ask for his last name. “What happened to you?”

“An accident.”

“I figured that much by myself. What kind of an accident?”

Again the pause, as if John was considering the answer or triying to find the right words. “A car accident. A few miles away down the road. I got lost in the woods and wandered around before saw the lights here.”

“You’re lucky, there are no other shelters for miles.”

‘What was he doing on that abandoned road in a first place,’ Landy wondered but didn’t voice it. That was none of his business, along with John’s full name. He changed the subject, “I’ll bring you breakfast.”

“Breakfast?”

Landy thought that, maybe, John had not only hit his ribs but his head, too. 

“Yeah, a meal. You need to eat. I’ll cook something.”

“Want to rest a little more.”

“Sure. When you're ready to get up, take my clothes, yours need washing.”

John nodded. His eyes closed, and Landy quietly left the room. He headed to the small kitchen and surveyed the little used space. He was once a skilled baker but now he had to force himself to get closer to the stove. He opened a few cabinets and found a packet of flour. He pulled a bowl from another cabinet and began to make pancakes.

He didn’t know what made him to look up. He didn’t hear any movement in the hall, but John was standing in the kitchen doorway. He was dressed in Landy’s shirt and pants. The clothes were slightly too big for him, and because of that he looked even younger and more fragile. His bright blue eyes were locked on Landy.

“You are hurt,” he stated.

“Have had a headache since last night.”

John tilted his head still staring. “Not only that. You hurt deep inside.”

Landy flinched. Damn boy, how much could he see with those huge eyes of his?

“Yes,” he barked hoping his tone would prevent further inquiries. 

But John ignored his warning. “The pain isn’t physical, it is in your soul,” he sounded as if he was intrigued. “It affects your mind and never lets you feel free of it.”

“Enough! It’s none of your business.”

“Sorry.”

Landy regretted about his outburst. He put a plate with pancakes on the table and pointed on a stool. “Sit down.”

John obeyed. His movements were stiff but definitely better than they were yesterday. Landy served butter, syrup and coffee and sat down, too. He took a few bites and only then noticed that John didn’t eat.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Perhaps you have a mild concussion, that makes you sick.”

John didn’t answer, and Landy returned to his meal. He was surprised to realize that his own appetite was back, as he hadn't felt so hungry in years. And the headache had left him finally.

After breakfast Landy went outside to remove branches fallen during the storm from the yard. He had left John sitting in the room listening to the radio, and when he came back a couple of hours later, John was still sitting there, and his face had a pensive expression. 

“So many feelings there,” he said sadly, and at the same time his voice kept a hint of wonder. 

“Have *you* ever felt, John?” the question broke out of Landy before he could realize it.

John looked at him and answered, “No.”

“Then you’re lucky.”

Landy walked to the couch and lowered himself on it. John followed him with his eyes again.

“Does feeling bring pain?” he asked.

“Not always. Sometimes it brings great pleasure.”

“The feeling is one that ruins your soul.”

“My soul is already dead. I killed it with my own hands.”

“That isn’t true. A human can't exist without a soul, and you are alive.”

“I'm just an empty shell.”

John got up and approached him. He sat on the couch and put his hand on Landy’s forearm, touching his bare skin. Landy shuddered feeling the strange warmth spreading through his veins.

“This isn’t a shell,” John said. “I sense life beneath my fingers.”

“You maybe hit your head pretty hard last night.”

“My head has nothing to do with it. Why are you hiding here in the woods denying yourself a life among your own kind?”

The question hit something inside Landy, and he blurted. “Do you wanna know why? Because I’m a monster.”

“You are human.”

“No one can be called human after killing his own sister.”

“Why?”

The dam of Landy’s self-control broke, and the words flooded out of him. He hadn't talked to anyone about his family, about his little Lucy and Grace for three years, and now he was telling everything to the stranger; he tried to recall all the terrible moments and describe them to John. He wanted to make John see him as he was seeing himself, and he was sure after that John would be running as fast as possible away from this shack. But instead of this he felt John’s hands on his shoulders giving him comfort. The tears streamed down his cheeks and he cried hard, mourning his grief. He had never cried like this before, and the tears brought him relief, they eased his battered heart and started the path of healing for him. 

When the tears finally ran out and were replaced with sobs, he realized he was lying on John’s shoulder burying his face in the base of his neck. His hands gripped John’s tears soaked shirt, and John was holding his shaking body. He freed himself and sat up straight.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled glancing at John.

John said nothing, but looked at him with a strange expression as if during Landy’s outburst he had entered his mind and read all his thoughts. And Landy realized that, even so, he didn’t mind. John knew all his dirty secrets and still looked at him as if he was a human being.

Suddenly John leaned to him and touched his lips with his own. Landy recoiled stunned. 

“What… what are you doing?” 

“You want it.”

John sounded calm as if his action was normal, and the next moment Landy realized with horror that John was right – he really wanted it. He had wanted it from the moment he first saw John. John attracted him, woke something inside him that Landy had considered as long dead. He stared at John unable to move, to say something, or to order John to run away from him. 

John raised his hand and ran his knuckles over Landy’s pale cheek. “You are scared. Why?”

“You really don’t know?” 

“No.”

“I want to fuck you.”

He was deliberately rude, but John wasn’t taken aback. 

“Does it feel good?” he asked, and Landy laughed hysterically.

“Damn yes, it feels good!”

“Then do it.” 

“Why?”

He really wanted to know the reason. John didn’t look like a slut, in fact, he looked like a virgin and Landy was sure he *was* a virgin, at least with men. 

“Because the only feeling I have sensed since coming here is pain. I want to sense pleasure.”

Landy didn’t know what to answer. John’s words were weird, and everything in John was weird, but Landy wanted him so much. He didn’t know why. So much time had passed since his teenager experiments in the locker room, and he had never thought about men when he was married. Perhaps his attraction to John was a result of his prolonged loneliness, or perhaps it was because of something in John that had awakened him. He didn’t know and, honesty, he didn’t want to ponder over it right now. He wanted to make love to John.

John knew it. He kissed Landy again, his lips were warm and soft, and Landy couldn’t resist anymore. He threw all thoughts out of his mind and claimed John’s mouth with his own; his hands grabbed John’s shoulders and pulled him closer. John was eager to answer, but Landy felt his inexperience and forced himself to slow. He left John’s mouth and moved his lips down along John’s square jaw and long neck while his fingers unbuttoned John’s shirt. He sucked the skin at the base of John’s neck, and John moaned.

“Does it feel good?” Landy asked nuzzling the silky skin.

“Yeah,” John exhaled.

“That’s only the start. Let me take it off.”

John nodded, and Landy took off his shirt and tank top baring his chest, then pulled back a bit eyeing the sight before him. John’s torso was perfect, lean and muscular.

“Do you like what you are seeing?” John asked.

Landy answered by running his fingers over his smooth skin, then leaned over and took one of the nipples into his mouth. John gasped, and Landy smiled, sucking the tight flesh. He kept sucking, stroking and licking till John started to moan uncontrollably. Then Landy slid off the couch and knelt on the floor between John’s knees. He undid John’s pants and freed his hard erection; he stroked it with his fingers, then took into his mouth. John cried and clutched his hands into Landy’s shoulders, his hips bucked, forcing more of his hardness into Landy’s mouth. Landy sucked him, and John lost control. His body shaking violently, he came into Landy’s mouth. 

Landy pulled back and looked up. John was leaning back on the couch panting hard, his eyes were closed. Landy got up and stroked his cheek. John opened his eyes and looked at him, his pupils were dilated making his eyes look black. 

“Did you feel pleasure?” Landy asked.

“Yes.”

“I can give you more.”

“More?”

John sounded incredulously, and Landy smiled. 

“Yeah, more. C’mon.”

He led John into the bedroom and lowered him onto the bed. He quickly took off the rest of John’s and his own clothes and laid down, covering John’s body with his own, moaning with pleasure at the sensation of his erection pressed to John's firm abdomen. He started to kiss and stroke John again, and John answered him, mirroring his movements. John was hard again, and his behavior became more demanding. Landy rummaged in the drawer of the nightstand and found some ointment, using it, he prepared John’s body, then urged him to turn over and get on his elbows and knees. He positioned himself and entered John’s tight body. The wave of pleasure swept over him, but he was able to sense as John tensed, so he stilled and ran his hands up and down John’s flanks making him relax and adjust to his invasion. Finally, he felt John was ready for more and he thrust in, his fingers played with John’s nipples then lowered to his manhood. He stroked John in time with his thrusts, and John moved to meet him inside and out. His body was hard and strong, without any of female’s soft weakness, and Landy was overwhelmed with sensation. He let himself go and thrust frantically into the welcoming body. John thrashed beneath him and soon he came, spilling his seed over Landy’s hand. His release triggered Landy’s climax, and he came hard, crying triumphantly. 

They were lying in bed panting hard, a fine sheet of sweat covering their bodies. 

“What was it?” John asked sounded hoarser than ever.

Landy laughed and kissed his shoulder. “It's called making love.”

He rolled off John and found the discarded shirt. He wiped them both with it, then lay back and embraced John. John pressed closer to him making himself comfortable into his arms, and they fell asleep.

-//-//-//-

Landy woke in empty bed. The shack was quiet, with no sign that John was around. Landy got up and headed to the front door. Opening it, he saw John sitting on the porch steps, the setting sun cast a red glow on him making him look unreal. John kept his right hand pressed to his hurt ribs – or to his heart. He didn’t turn to meet Landy, still looking up at a lonely star in the sky. Landy walked over and sat on the steps beside him.

“Who are you, John?” he asked, eyeing John’s profile.

“A scientist,” John answered honestly.

“Why are you here?”

“To study humans.”

“Where did you come from?”

This time John didn’t answer. Landy followed his gaze and looked at the star. It seemed to him that the star became brighter, and suddenly he knew the truth. It was weird, unreal – but somehow Landy knew it was true. John wasn’t a human being, he was an alien. 

“Yes,” John confirmed his thought. 

“How'd you get on my land?”

“I crashed. After destroying the wreck, I needed a shelter to wait for a rescue ship.”

“It came for you?”

“Yes. I should go.”

The sharp pain stabbed Landy’s heart, and he turned away from John. John tore his eyes off the star and looked at him, but if he was going to say something about the time spent together, he changed his mind. His only words were, “You better stay here.”

He got up and went to the line of trees. Landy followed with his eyes, watching John's slim body bathed in red sunlight, and every step away from him made the pain in his chest worse. John disappeared behind the trees, and soon after a white light lit up the sky there. Landy closed his eyes, and for the second time that day, tears flowed from his eyes. The first time he had mourned his past, but now he cried over his present and, maybe, future. 

He lost track of time sitting on the steps. The sun went down and night fell, filling the air with the smell of grass and the chitter of crickets. He opened his eyes and looked up at the familiar patterns of the starlit sky. John was there, somewhere. He would never see him again. Perhaps, John would be able to read his thoughts from the distance, but he had lost him forever. 

He had no reason to sit outside any longer. He cast one final look towards the woods where he had seen John for the last time and froze when he noticed a shadow there. It was too dark to recognize it, but the shadow had the shape of a human’s body. Landy’s heart skipped a beat. The shadow moved, approaching him, and soon he was sure that it was John – or a hallucination of John. Then he caught a look at the bright blue eyes, and he knew that wasn’t an illusion. 

John walked over and stood before him.

“I’m staying,” he said simply. 

“Why?” was all Landy was able to say.

“We are not different from you, genetically, biologically, but what you call evolution has changed us. We have lost your ability to feel. Or rather, the trait lies dormant. You awakened this sense in me. I don’t want to lose it, don’t want to live in a world without feelings.”

“And your… your people let you go?”

“I told them this is a continuation of the experiment to study humans. I still have a connection with them and can call them back.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Learn more about love, and that will be a lifetime experiment.”

END


End file.
